


Drastic Changes

by Skifazoa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Archivist Harry Potter, Ballet Dancer Draco Malfoy, F/M, Flirting, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gay Harry Potter, H/D Career Fair 2017, HP: Epilogue Compliant, House Hunting, M/M, Married Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Married Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Misunderstandings, Romance, Supportive Ginny Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 15:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12038715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skifazoa/pseuds/Skifazoa
Summary: Imagine the shock you would feel if you saw your old school rival dancing ballet. Now imagine the shock you would feel when you realized he was amazing at it. If that person came back into your life, and you found out the animosity between you two wasn't animosity anymore, you'd surely think the world was going mad. That's exactly what happens to Harry Potter, and it leads him to make some very big decisions that will affect his wife, his kids, and the entire rest of his life.





	Drastic Changes

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[95](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1LiaSm8GWFLsDD8KUOZmlTSHmhIMyFZzdqYNfB-25Khk/edit).
> 
> I beg the prompter's forgiveness. This is my first fanfiction, and it developed into a creature unto its own vices, so the jobs quickly took a backseat to the rest of the story. But I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.
> 
> Bless dysonrules for beta-ing my first fic!

**December 2, 2017, 6:08 PM**

“Oh, Harry, it’s not going to kill you.” Ginny buttoned the top button of his shirt. “It used to be that ballet was a black tie affair. Be glad you don’t have to wear a jacket.” She stepped back and gave him an appraising look. “I’m so jealous. You off to the ballet while I’m off at a bloody retirement party.”

“Look on the bright side,” Harry said, tugging at his uncomfortably tight collar. “You said you couldn’t wait for Fawley to retire. She’s what, a hundred and ten?”

“A hundred and twelve,” Ginny corrected. “And you’re right, I plan on celebrating wildly. After I get home, of course. With some firewhiskey.” She gave him a coy grin. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to…” She trailed off, her smile fading as Harry’s expression changed.

“You know I love you, Ginny,” he said, turning away to tie his tie. “But I can’t.”

She sighed wistfully.

“That’s alright,” she said. “You just look good enough to eat all done up like that.”

Harry looked down at his shirt. Ginny said it looked like moss. Harry thought it looked like the inside of a soiled nappy. But she’d been rather insistent about it being the best shirt for him, and Harry didn’t trust his own judgment of colors.

“If you say so,” he said, pulling his tie tight around his neck. He looked at his reflection in the mirror for a moment before ripping the tie off and undoing his top button.

“Oh, come on,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “It was fine.”

“If I’m not wearing a jacket, I’m not wearing a tie,” he said firmly. “I don’t want to look like some junior undersecretary that forgot his blazer. Sometimes I think you’re trying to sabotage me.” He said it jokingly, but he caught a flash of guilt in Ginny’s eyes. He sighed.

“Ginny, we’ve been talking about this for years, and it’s always the same.” He rubbed his temples. “I’m not going to run off on you.”

Ginny clasped her hands anxiously. “I know that, I just…” she hesitated. “Even after all these years, I want them to keep their eyes off you. I keep hoping…”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry I can’t change who I am for you.” He’d lied to himself for years, telling himself that he could love Ginny in that way, but after three children and more years of trying than was probably good for anyone, he had had to admit to Ginny that he didn’t enjoy sleeping with her. She had not taken it well. She seemed to be alright, after the initial shock wore off, when she saw that Harry still only had eyes for her. They had settled back into their usual routine, and spent the next several years in a happy but sexless marriage. Not for any lack of effort on Ginny’s part.

The other shoe had dropped the summer before James left for Hogwarts. Harry had been out for a stroll when he’d found himself being hit on by an attractive muggle man. Harry had politely explained that he was married, excused himself, and spend the next day and a half locked in his study, panicking. After a lot of self-analysis he would bet money his friends didn’t think him capable of, he’d emerged to find Ginny and talk to her.

Ginny had taken Harry’s announcement that he liked men much better than his refusal to sleep with her, presumably because that meant it wasn’t any fault of hers they weren’t having sex. They’d agreed to tell their three kids because they were good at keeping well away from the press, but they’d also agreed that something would have to be done publicly. Someday.

In the meantime, however, Harry continued to be a faithful, albeit gay, husband, and Ginny kept trying, albeit with less vigor, to get Harry to sleep with her. But they both knew he wouldn’t. It was simply part of the routine at this point.

“And even if they did look at me,” Harry continued, “they all think I’m straight and married.” He drew her into a hug. “It didn’t bother you when it was women lusting after me, so why should it bother you that men do too? Their odds are still the same.” He held her out at arm’s length and looked into her eyes. “Absolutely zilch.”

She chuckled and turned to the closet. As she started shifting though hangers, Harry unbuttoned his shirt.

“Well, I’ll tell you this. You definitely look better without a tie.” She turned and help up a periwinkle blue shirt. “And you’ll look much better in this.”

///

As they parted ways on the front step of their bungalow outside Reading, they smiled at each other. Ginny hugged him tightly before disapparating for the ministry. Harry grinned as he thought of the night to come. Unlike Ron, who had flat out refused to accompany his wife to the ballet, Harry was excited for it.

Hermione had been ecstatic to get tickets to a special, one-weekend benefit revival of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake. The production was world-renowned; from Shanghai to Melbourne and from London to New York, everyone was salivating over it. Even Harry had heard about it. People had been raving about it for over two decades, but it hadn’t played in London for a couple years. With one weekend only, the show was sold out in less than 15 minutes. Luckily, Hermione’s job gave her access to some of the coveted tickets. After Ron said no, Harry was the first person she had called. He had been happy to go, since Ginny was going to be off at a party all evening anyway. He had tried not to be too excited so Ginny wouldn’t feel bad, but he really was.

He apparated to Ron and Hermione’s house where he walked in and greeted Ron, who was wrestling Hugo on the living room floor while his own Lily watched from the couch. Rose was nowhere to be seen. Hermione came out wearing a simple green dress and kissed her family goodbye.

“Don’t stay up too late!” she called over her shoulder as she shoved Harry out the door in front of her. She turned to him, a twinkle in her eye. “Ready?”

“Oh yeah.”

///

They apparated together outside the Sadler’s Wells Theatre, which was officially a muggle venue, but it was also very wizard-friendly. Distortion charms shielded their sudden appearance from the muggles, and they were off at once. Within five minutes they were seated in the gallery of the first circle, ready for the show to start.

“How was work?” Hermione asked after they had caught their breath.

“It was good. I know I wasn’t the best student at Hogwarts,” he chuckled sheepishly as Hermione snorted. “But it’s really nice to be learning things again.”

“I suppose an archive is a good place to learn things.” Hermione said dryly.

Harry hadn’t gotten a job right out of Hogwarts. After the war, he’d gone back for his NEWT year, but after all the fighting and running, Harry didn’t want to be an auror anymore. Admittedly, it was only an idea he’d entertained for a few years, but it was also the only plan he’d ever had. He hadn’t thought of any alternatives.

To be fair, he didn’t need a job to survive. He’d rented a small, run-down flat in London, unable to stomach the thought of returning to Grimmauld Place, and had lived there for a couple of years, volunteering for a few charities, wizarding and muggle alike. He’d discovered an interest in history hidden away quite by accident one day as he’d sat in a library outside St. Mungo’s. He’d spent the morning and part of the afternoon helping the healers, and he had been fairly worn out by all the running around. He’d randomly picked up a book on World War II and found himself so immersed in it the librarian scared him half to death when she’d said it was closing time. He’d come in just after tea and read his entire evening away!

He’d put this late interest in history down to Professor Binn’s dull teaching style suppressing it, but that still hadn’t solved the problem of what to do in life. Resuming dating Ginny in earnest had helped him delay the process. He’d thrown  himself back into their relationship, allowing his lack of goals to get swept up in a whirlwind romance. They had been married two years later, and their first child was born a year after that.

Now, here he was. Gay, married to a lovely but unsatisfied wife, with three beautiful children, two of which were gone at Hogwarts. With only one child left at home, Harry could no longer deny that being a house-spouse wasn’t enough anymore. He needed a job, so at thirty-seven years of age he’d gone job-hunting for the first time in his life.

He’d toyed around with the idea of working in the muggle world for a while, if only to get some privacy. But he’d realized that, despite living as one for the first eleven years of his life, he wasn’t comfortable slipping back into the muggle lifestyle. So he’d poked around the Daily Prophet, looking for anything that piqued his interest. Despite his lack of experience, there wasn’t much he wasn’t qualified for. But there also wasn’t much he wanted to do. But then Ginny had come home and told him that the ministry archivist was looking for an apprentice.

Harry had to admit, it appealed to him. Being secluded from the public eye and surrounded by history day in and day out. All in all, a rather nice prospect, in theory. That was assuming he didn’t get bored. The archivist, a spindly old woman named Nuha Shafiq, was happy to have him, though she clearly thought he was mental. He had been working there for a little over a month now, and was loving every minute of it.

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Hermione said, tucking a stray spiral of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. She tried twice before it stayed, not seeming to notice. Harry smiled and shook his head.

“Did you know,” he began suddenly, “that I still get premiums from Sleekeazy’s? I’ve been told for years that everything was in order at Gringotts, but I’d never done a personal reconciliation. I finally did one after the new school year started, and I found out that the Potter account has got between three and four hundred galleons per month ever since my grandfather sold the company. Or the adjusted equivalent thereof.”

“I’m not sure what brought this up,” Hermione said as the curl fell into her face again, “but I think we can all safely assume it’s not more than that because _you’ve_ clearly never used it. Your hair could keep Sleekeazy’s in business all by itself!”

“I resemble that remark.” Harry said. “But in all seriousness, I actually have. I just don’t like how I look when I use it.”

“That’s fair,” Hermione said. “It’s the time for me. I’ve only used it twice in my life, for the Yule Ball and my wedding, and they both took forever.”

“You were gorgeous at both, but I didn’t know who you were either time.”

“I thought it was Ron’s job to be tactless.”

“I can’t let him have all the fun,” Harry teased. “Anyway, how was work?”

“You can’t keep a conversation on the same track at all today, can you?” Hermione laughed.

The two of them talked about nothing and everything until the lights dimmed. Harry found his stomach knotting in anticipation. Hermione beamed at him. They were ready for the show to begin.

///

After the opening scene was finished, however, Harry found the first act quickly taking the edge off his excitement. It was a wonderful piece of ballet, and the performers were excellent, but Harry wasn’t particularly enraptured by the prince’s growth, his overbearing yet unloving mother, or the strange ballet inception in the third scene. Towards the end of the act, however, things got interesting. The prince started to rebel against his mother, but he also started showing signs of a deeper turmoil. Harry found the prince becoming a much more interesting character than he’d first thought.

As the second act began, Harry felt the knot return. Here, he was sure, was where the core of the story would be revealed. What happened next took his breath away.

As the prince was about to kill himself, a dancer dressed as a swan appeared and enthralled the prince. He was sure something happened then, but Harry could only see feathers and chests and unbridled sensuality. The beauty and grace of the swan completely captivated Harry. But at the same time, puzzlement arose in him. And Harry knew why.

It was a familiar grace. Harry knew it. The poise, the elegance, the sensuality were all familiar to him. But he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. He squinted, trying to make out the dancer’s face, but they were separated just far enough that Harry couldn’t make out any features. He leaned over towards Hermione.

“Does that swan remind you of anyone?” he whispered under his breath.

“Yes, but I don’t know who!” she replied quietly.

“I’m going to get a program at intermission; do you want one?”

“No, that’s alright.”

The act finished with a rush of new resolve from the prince that Harry understood completely after watching the swan dance. Harry practically ran to the lobby as soon as the lights came up. After a panicked scramble looking for some pounds, which he thankfully had enough of, he purchased the program and returned to his seat. He opened it and fervently scanned the cast pages.

“I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t believe it either,” Hermione replied, “but it makes sense, doesn’t it?

There in a large, bold font was the name Draco Malfoy.

///

Harry had to admit that it did make sense. Who else did he know that moved with that kind of grace? Granted, he hadn’t identified it as such at school. He probably would have called it snobbery on a generous day.

He wasn’t sure what happened at the beginning of act three, preoccupied as he was with his thoughts about this revelation. But he was ripped back to the stage when Malfoy stepped out wearing black leather pants and started flirting with every woman present. This bothered Harry tremendously, but he was willing to forgive these errors in judgement when he saw Malfoy’s thighs. The pants were often covered by the coat Malfoy wore, but the glimpses were enough to make Harry’s mouth dry. Where the hell had those been at Hogwarts? Well, he reasoned, Malfoy hadn’t worn leather pants at school. And what a damn shame that was.

Harry found himself feeling for the prince as the scene went on, though he was initially confused as to whether the character Malfoy was portraying was different from the swan or not. The prince clearly thought he was the swan, however, and the feeling of betrayal he communicated tore at Harry’s heart like a knife. This is wrong, he thought. Everything’s going wrong.

Harry was disappointed when a gun was pulled at the end of the act, but he wasn’t surprised. Aside from a momentary panic when he thought the prince had been shot, the scene’s ending left Harry with very melancholy predictions for the ending of the ballet. But God, the way Malfoy dragged his hand over his face, leaving behind a streak of black makeup that marked him as the swan, was _hot_.

He was unsurprised to see the prince confined to his room in the next act, clearly under mental duress if not completely snapped. The dancing that followed felt ominous to Harry, though it was beautiful, and although he was glad to see the swan return to the prince, he felt instinctively that the worst had yet to come.

He was proved right at the end of the act when the swan was torn to pieces by his brethren, and the prince’s mother came in to find her son dead on his bed. Harry was disgusted by her sobs and her clutching at his body. Where were these displays of love when he was alive? The prince had wanted nothing more than her love throughout the entire ballet, and she hadn’t even been willing to give him the time of day.

So wrapped up in his anger at the queen, Harry almost missed the ending tableau above the bed. The swan cradling the prince in his arms, together at last, allowed only in death. The ballet ended and Harry found tears running down his face in spite of his feelings of anger just a moment earlier. He turned to look at Hermione and saw her eyes shining as well.

“That was amazing, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah, it really was.” Harry replied.

///

Hermione analyzed his ear off about the symbolism of mental illness and the manifestations of the prince’s desire to be loved, but Harry only listened halfheartedly. The ballet had stirred his emotions, and that was enough for him. His thoughts turned instead to Malfoy. Nothing Harry knew about him suggested he did ballet. But he probably didn’t know the first thing about Malfoy when it came down to it.

After he got home, picking Lily up as he left Hermione and Ron’s house, he considered sending Malfoy an owl congratulating him on his performance. But he was waylaid by Ginny’s arrival home and her subsequent demands he tell her all about it. He did, trying his best to sound detached, but he couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice as he spoke of Malfoy and the prince and the swans. She listened quietly, looking sad, and Harry felt bad that she couldn’t have been there. She insisted it was fine as they turned in, but Harry thought he saw something in her eyes as the lights went out. He just wasn’t sure what he was.

///

Harry was at work on Wednesday when he found himself without anything to do. Such moments were rare, so he decided to do a little research on the Malfoy family while he had the time. Seeing Malfoy on stage had made him extremely curious as to what else he didn’t know about his old classmate. He pulled the Malfoy file, which was actually several cubic meters of material, and started reading after dropping it on the table with a loud _thump_. He abandoned his effort almost immediately when he realized the records stretched all the way back to France. He moved to the more recent files, and started looking for information on Draco in particular. He was shocked to find that there was almost nothing there. There were a few pages describing the years leading up to Hogwarts, but nothing about his activities. Draco could just as easily have been a world-renowned circus performer for all the information the records gave up.

Harry huffed in disappointment before diving into the middle of the Malfoy family history. The papers he pulled out appeared to be from about a hundred and twenty years before the institution of the International Statute of Secrecy. He read for a few minutes before a terrifyingly familiar voice startled him and made his blood run cold.

“What the hell are you doing? I stood at the front desk for fifteen minutes waiting for someone!”

Harry looked up and locked eyes with the last person he wanted to see at that instant. Draco Malfoy. His brain started running a mile a minute, trying to process what was happening. Why was Malfoy here? What reason did he have for being in the archives? And why did he have to come right when Harry was going through his file?

“Was Nuha not there?” Harry asked, his brain managing to spit something out. Malfoy looked dumbfounded as he realized who he was talking to.

“Potter? What are you doing here? And why are you going through my records?” Malfoy said angrily. “I asked for the archives to prepare them for my arrival, not let any wanker in off the streets to paw through my family’s life at will.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Harry said, thinking quickly. “I dropped a box, and sat down to check its organization before your arrival.” It was a far more convoluted not- _technically_ -lie than was probably necessary, but Harry was still freaking out because Malfoy was here, in the archive, talking to him.

“You work here?” sputtered Malfoy indignantly. “And you dropped my family’s records?”

“That just about sums it up,” Harry said, smiling weakly. “Sorry about that.”

Harry was spared whatever explosion was building in Malfoy’s eyes by the arrival of Nuha with a tea tray.

“Mr. Malfoy, you’re early,” she snapped. “Your appointment isn’t for another five minutes.”

“He’s been here for fifteen already,” Harry muttered, earning him a withering glare from Malfoy.

“You can’t rush an archivist, dear.” Nuha scolded Malfoy. “That’s how accidents happen.”

“I’ve prepared the Malfoy records, Ms. Shafiq,” Harry said, “but I’m afraid I dropped some of them. Please forgive me. I inspected them for damage, but I was unable to find any.”

“Good,” Nuha said. “You’d be fired if there was.” She turned to Malfoy. “Now, what is it we can do for you, Mr. Malfoy?”

“I have some additions for my family records.” Malfoy sniffed. “My father informed me last week that he hasn’t updated the files since I was about to start school.”

“Well, let’s get to it then.” Nuha sipped the cup of tea Harry handed her.

“Indeed,” Malfoy said, taking a small package out of his pocket and setting it on the desk. He accepted a teacup from Harry with a stiff nod before restoring the package to its original size. Harry groaned. There was at least a half cubic meter of materials to process. It was going to be a long afternoon.

///

“It would seem,” Malfoy said a few hours later, “that even though I brought everything from my Hogwarts years onwards, the years before that remain rather sparse. Shall I come back tomorrow?”

Harry, who was surprised to realize that Malfoy had been quite tolerable over the course of the afternoon, nodded and looked at Nuha.

“I can probably manage that, if Ms. Shafiq agrees. Tomorrow is her day off, though, so it will just be me.”

Malfoy looked doubtful, but nodded.

“Very well.” He stood up and nodded to them both before turning and walking out.

“What have I told you about reading on the job?” Nuha snapped at Harry the minute the door was closed behind Malfoy. “Those records weren’t dropped, and you and I both know it.”

“It’s all public material,” Harry said calmly. “I was just checking up on an old school friend.”

“Do it on your own time!” Nuha barked, narrowing her eyes at him. She took the tea tray away and Harry carefully put the records away until the next day.

It’s funny, he thought, how cordial Malfoy was. Must be a side effect of the archive charms, he reasoned. He returned to his desk to find a note from Nuha he’d never seen before that read ‘pull Malfoy records for 14:00 meeting.’ He sighed and thanked whoever was listening for happy coincidences.

///

“Did you know,” Harry asked suddenly, “that your father’s namesake tried to marry Queen Elizabeth the first?”

“Where in Merlin’s name did that come from?” Draco asked coolly, looking up from the documents he was comparing.

“Just something I noticed in the file I dropped yesterday,” Harry said, deciding he didn’t like the archive charms after all. “The newspapers can’t seem to get enough of the relationship between Astoria and her in-laws, and it made me wonder how your father would react if he knew the first Lucius tried to marry a muggle.” Harry fully expected to be cursed to pieces then and there, but after a moment Malfoy surprised him with a laugh.

“He’d probably die of shame.” Malfoy chuckled, turning back to his papers. “Astoria doesn’t stand for any of his pureblood superiority talk around Scorpius, and I must admit I’m glad. I don’t fancy him growing up in my footsteps.”

“From what I’ve seen, you’ve been a wonderful example for him.” Harry said, only partly of his own volition. “Albus writes home all the time about how well they get along.”

“I didn’t know befriending someone in your own house was such an unusual occurrence,” Malfoy replied dryly.

“It is when that house is Slytherin.” They both fell silent for a few moments before Malfoy spoke again.

“I suppose I’d be hard-pressed to call any of my housemates friends,” he admitted. “Underlings, maybe, but no one I could truly confide in or be comfortable around.”

“Well, I’m glad Scorpius has that, at least,” Harry said. “And I’m sorry you had to go through all _that_ alone. I can’t imagine what it must have been like.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t, what with Weasley and Granger” Malfoy shook his head sheepishly. “Look at me. I can’t even insult your friends anymore.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?” Harry teased.

“Stuff it, Potter.” Malfoy said faux-haughtily. “The Draco Malfoy you knew is gone. I spent years in therapy getting rid of him.” He set the papers down and rubbed his eyes. “My therapist must have an entire book’s worth of notes about you.” He laughed. “I had never realized how much you affected me over all these years.”

“I think it’s safe to say the same about you,” Harry said, panicking inside at the direction the conversation was taking. “It says a lot about how far we’ve come that we’re having an open, cordial conversation.”

“Why is that, incidentally?” Malfoy asked with an accusatory slant to his voice. “Did you slip babbling beverage into my tea?”

“Of course not!” Harry said, mock-offended. “It’s the archives. They bring the truth out in people. That’s where that old expression came from. ‘The best thing for a strained relationship is an hour in the stacks.’”

“That’s a much better turn of phrase than my grandfather’s.”

“What’s his version?”

“Much the same, but he said sack instead of stacks.”

Harry burst out laughing. “I suppose that’s true too!”

“Please, Potter, sex doesn’t fix everything.”

Harry sobered at that. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He thought of Ginny. “Still, it could grease the works, if one were willing to try.”

"Am I being propositioned by Harry Potter?” Malfoy asked amusedly.

Harry sputtered as he realized how that must have sounded. “No, no, not at all, I just-”

“And why not?” Malfoy interrupted indignantly. “Am I not a paragon of sensuality?"

“No, I mean, yes, I mean, oh bloody hell.” Harry stammered, suddenly picturing leather-clad thighs. “Please excuse me, I need to go kill myself.” He stood up from the table. Malfoy chuckled.

“Now now, I don’t think there’s any need for that. It’s so easy to read you, Potter, you’d think you’d have learned to guard yourself better.”

But Harry was only half-listening. His imagination had taken off running, and he was slightly disconcerted to find that he could easily see himself taking up with this new, more pleasant Malfoy. _Except_ , his rational side reminded him, _you’re both married, and there’s four children between the two of you that probably won’t view infidelity kindly. They’ll understand_ , his hopeful side chipped in. _But Malfoy’s probably not even interested_ , his pessimistic side said with a finality that startled Harry. Maybe he needed to see a mind healer.

“Potter?” Malfoy’s voice jarred him back to the table. “Are you alright?” Was Harry imagining concern in his voice?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just lost in my own thoughts.” He picked up the next file to go through.

“If I’d known flirting with you would make you all serious, I wouldn’t have done it.”

“So, that was flirting then?” Harry cringed at the hope he heard in his voice. Malfoy grinned, clearly having heard it as well.

“As much as one married man can flirt with another.” He winked. “Rumor has it your wife doesn’t get much out of you, so I just assumed that meant…” he trailed off.

Harry sighed. He didn’t pay attention to the gossip mills, but he figured there must have been some speculation over the years.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t love my wife very much,” Harry said, not bothering to deny Malfoy’s implication.

“I never said it did,” Malfoy’s grin grew wider. But was that a glint of panic Harry saw in his eyes? “I love Astoria very much, but that doesn’t mean my other needs and feelings just disappeared.”

Harry stiffened in his seat, feeling like the conversation was entering some very dangerous territory.

“What sort of feelings?” he asked, his voice slightly tremulous.

“Well,” Draco drawled, “I guess you could say admiration when I was a child, although that quickly became jealously after we met and I realized you weren’t what I thought you would be. During the war, of course, everything was eclipsed by what could only be called sheer terror, both of you and for you. That state lasted rather longer than I think it’s healthy to dwell on. By the time it was all over, and I was able to look at you through more mature eyes, well…you’d become a very handsome man. And then I got jealous again when you got married. But deep down, I think I knew it was much more than jealousy.” Malfoy trailed off, shuffling through the papers he held.

“At least you were self-aware enough to realize it so early,” Harry said, trying not to panic at Malfoy’s words. “I didn’t realize I liked men until a couple years ago. Ginny took that a lot better than the years of unexplained abstinence, that’s for sure.” Malfoy’s eyes crinkled at that.

“Why _Harry_ ,” he said, pouring honey all over the name as he said it, “and she hasn’t run off on you yet?”

“We’re perfectly happy in all other respects, thank you,” Harry said stiffly.

“Maybe, but few people indeed aren’t subject to their body’s desires.”

“We’re faithful to each other,” Harry said defensively. “We persevere for the other’s sake. What about you?” he asked suddenly. “How do you and Astoria handle it?”

Malfoy’s smile vanished, and Harry instantly regretted his words. Nothing that could make Malfoy look like that should be used as ammunition against him.

“Astoria is too frail to handle much of anything,” Malfoy said stiltedly, and Harry could see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes. “Her family curse is really starting to wear her down. Do you know about that?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t. What is it?”

“It’s a blood malediction,” Malfoy said, sniffing. “It’s gotten much worse in the last few years. She probably only has a couple more left.”

“Draco,” Harry said, reaching his hand out and placing it on Malfoy’s. “I’m so sorry.”

“Tell me,” Draco sniffed into his handkerchief, “do your archives turn everyone into Hufflepuffs?”

“Letting your emotions out doesn’t make you less of a Slytherin, it makes you a healthy human being.” Harry withdrew his hand.

“Maybe, but it feels pretty stupid to tell an old school rival about your affection for him and your wife’s fatal illness.”

“Well, that’s not entirely your fault,” Harry said. “That old expression isn’t for nothing you know. The Ministry archives are charmed not to allow falsehoods to be spoken.”

Malfoy tensed. “Do you mean to tell me,” Draco said, the tremor in his voice now more akin to anger, “that you have let me sit here, spilling my heart out, while you knew I couldn’t shield myself?”

“Er, sort of, but-“

“Harry Potter, you’re unbelievable! I can’t fathom why I actually thought I could trust you!”

Before Harry could even blink, Malfoy was gone in a swirl of robes. He sat there in shock, trying to understand what had happened.

“But you didn’t lie,” he said to no one. “You would have realized if you tried to lie.”

///

Harry planned to write a letter to Malfoy explaining the situation and asking for his forgiveness, even though he didn’t think he needed to. He stayed late in the archives, clearing up the papers and preparing for the next day before getting home late that night. However, he was waylaid by Ginny when he came in the door.

“We need to talk,” she said. “I’ve put Lily to bed, so we won’t be interrupted.” She sat down in an armchair by the fireplace in their living room and looked at him expectantly. He sat in the chair opposite her and waited.

“I got a promotion,” Ginny said after a minute. “They want me to step up into Fawly’s position.”

“Wow, Ginny, that’s great!” Harry exclaimed, leaning forward in his chair.

“Is it?” Ginny said quietly.

“What?” Harry asked. “Why wouldn’t it be? What’s wrong with that?”

“Fawly’s job was hobnobbing and public appearances. I want to be at my desk where I can actually do some good for St. Mungo’s,” she said. “The Department of Wizarding Welfare is big, you know that. Taking Fawly’s job will put me in charge of everything, instead of letting me focus on improvements in one area. I’ll be spread too thin to be effective.

“I like being able to say I help people. I like being the one people count on to keep their hospital running efficiently. I don’t want to be a figurehead that gives speeches and shakes hands. I can’t help anyone like that.”

“Well,” Harry said, “you know I’ll support whatever you decide, but I think you’d be surprised how much of a difference you could make as head of the department. You’re still young, and you have plenty of time to change what your job responsibilities are, if you want.”

“True,” Ginny said, lost in thought, “but regardless, it will mean longer days for me, and countless events I will need an escort to.”

“I’m always happy to escort you anywhere,” Harry said, smiling.

“But I need you at home to watch Lily in the evenings,” she said with a sad smile. “I’ve been thinking ever since you came home raving about the ballet and Malfoy.” She continued. “I realized that you two have always had an intense relationship, and I was a fool to think it would ever stop, even after all these years. But even if Malfoy wasn’t in the picture,” she sighed heavily, “I can’t keep holding on to you and hoping you’ll change. That’s not fair to either of us. And don’t you dare fight me on this, because we both know we don’t light each other up. We love each other, but we don’t give the other everything we need to be fulfilled.

“I want you to go out and find someone. Maybe that will end up being Malfoy, maybe not, but I want you to be happy and fulfilled. And I want to find someone that fulfills me too. Someone I can take to a party, and then take home to make love to. I want…I need that, and I know you do too.” She was crying now.

Harry left his chair and knelt in front of her, pulling her into a hug as she sobbed. All the pent up frustration and longing from the last decade came pouring out. She cried into his shoulder for several long minutes as Harry rubbed her back and whispered nothings in her ear. When she finally pulled away, sniffling and puffy-eyed, Harry gave her a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t blame you at all for feeling that way. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way.” He cupped her face in his hands. “But I need you to know that whatever the future holds, I will always love you and I will always be there for you.”

“Thank you,” she sniffled. “Why aren’t you fighting me on this?”

“You told me not to!” He kissed her on the forehead. “I spent most of my life fighting. I fought my aunt and uncle, I fought Voldemort, and I fought the truth about myself. I don’t want to fight the inevitable too.” He hugged her as she sagged in exhaustion.

“I wonder if we’ll ever do anything normally,” she said. “We can’t even separate like a normal couple.”

Harry chuckled. “Normal is boring.”

Ginny wrote letters to the boys at Hogwarts, and then they cleaned up and got ready for bed. In the bedroom, however, Harry found an owl at his window. He let it in and read the note while it snacked on an owl treat.

 

 

> _Potter,_
> 
> _My therapist says I was just looking for excuses to run away from you, and that I am “an over-reacting drama queen” and overall a great big bollocking idiot. While I resent each and every one of those accusations, I must grudgingly admit that she is probably right. So I am sorry I ran away. It was immature, and I realize that I can’t really blame you for anything yesterday._
> 
> _Are you free to finish processing my records tomorrow? I would like to continue our discussion as well if that’s alright with you. My therapist says there’s no point in realizing I was wrong if I pretend nothing happened._
> 
> _Draco_

Harry smiled and sent off a reply in the affirmative before going to bed.

///

Harry woke to Ginny howling with laughter in the kitchen. He stumbled downstairs for breakfast as her cackles reverberated throughout the house. He gathered from Lily’s explanation that the overall consensus was positive. The kids all knew that Harry liked boys, so it was in everyone’s best interests for this to happen. James’s reply, obviously sarcastic, really took the cake, though.

 

 

> _Mom,_
> 
> _I think this makes sense. If dad is gay, then he should be with a guy. I know he still loves us kids, even if he wants to be shot of you. Mom, take this advice: you really need to get laid. Best get shot of dad too while he’s at it. Go let off some steam._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _James_
> 
> _P.S. I want to live with whoever gets a date first._

“Brat!” Ginny said, choking on one last laugh.

“Someone’s not getting anything for Christmas,” agreed Harry, wheezing for air.

///

When Harry arrived at work, he found Malfoy waiting for him at his desk with a mug of tea. He stood up when he saw Harry and held the tea out to him.

“I’msorryforbeingatwat,” he said quickly. Harry took the tea and smiled at Malfoy.

“It’s okay. Where were we yesterday?”

“Astoria’s illness, I believe.”

“I mean in the records, you wanker.”

“Oh, er, I’m not sure.”

Harry laughed and shook his head.

“I’m glad one of us was paying attention.” He pulled out a box and set it on the table. “I believe we were just getting to your childhood hobbies. Which,” Harry continued, opening the box, “I believe you are missing some very important information from.”

“I have no idea what you don’t mean.” Malfoy said, and then blinked. “I have no idea what you mean to not imply. I have a possible idea of what you might not mean to maybe say!” He sat down in frustration and huffed. “Merlin, that’s terrible! How do you even understand when people try to lie?”

“We don’t,” Harry said, smirking. “The sentences get longer and more convoluted the more you try to lie. Most give up after three or four sentences.”

“That’s just cruel.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, “but it works, doesn’t it?”

They worked in silence for just over an hour before Harry broke the silence again.

“I believe we had been talking at one point about affections for old school rivals? Let’s go back to that, I quite liked that part of the conversation.”

“Oh no,” Draco said. “I did that yesterday. It’s your turn.”

Harry looked down, cursing himself for not foreseeing that instantly.

“Well, to be honest, I had been obsessed with you for a long time, but that was mostly for not very nice reasons. It wasn’t until very recently that I realized I thought you were attractive. Only about a week, actually.”

“Oh?” Malfoy asked, looking intrigued. “And what happened a week ago to spark this, well, rather justified realization?”

“I, er, went to the ballet.”

“…” Malfoy was silent for a moment. “You tricked me,” he said grumpily.

“Not at all,” Harry said, “I was just making it so you didn’t have to lie.”

“How mortifying.”

“That’s not the word I would use,” Harry said gently. “I believe the word I used at the time was beautiful.”

“Obviously,” Malfoy said, “but I was referring to the fact that no one in our world knows I do ballet. Now the cat’s out of the bag.”

“If it makes you feel better, Hermione thought you were amazing as well.” Harry continued. “And neither of us has told anyone but our respective spouses.”

“What a relief it is to know,” Malfoy said, “that only my four least favorite people from school know about my secret hobby. I think the only way I could possibly be more embarrassed is if you caught me dancing to eighties rock music while wearing muggle athletic wear.”

“I fail to see how that has anything to do with anything,” Harry said. “I saw nothing worth being embarrassed about. You were beautiful, and sensual, and really, really amazing.”

Draco’s ears turned pink, and he looked down at the papers he was holding.

“That’s when I realized I thought you were attractive,” Harry continued. “I just didn’t dare think about it at the time.”

“And now?”

“Well, things have changed recently.”

Draco closed the folder in front of him and stood up.

“I think,” he said, “you need some ice cream.”

///

“I want to thank you, Harry,” Draco said as they sat inside Fortescue’s Ice Cream parlor. “Not only for indulging my winter desire for ice cream, but for giving me a chance to speak openly. I may never have said some of the things I did if you hadn’t gotten me talking. I don’t think I realized how badly I needed to get some of that off my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to speak freely with anyone.”

“I hope,” Harry said cautiously, “this isn’t the end of our talk?”

“Merlin forbid.” Draco took a large bite of ice cream. “Ah qui’e enjoy’ awa tahk.”

For reasons Harry couldn’t explain, Draco Malfoy struggling to speak around a mouth full of ice cream was the strangest thing he’s seen all week. And that was considering that his marriage was ending and his old enemy had confessed to being attracted to him. Why this incongruity was so striking, Harry wasn’t sure, but he thought it might have something to do with stereotypes about elegance and refinement.

“I do think, however,” Draco continued, “that we’ll have to leave both our discussion and the paperwork until next week. I have some other business to attend to from lunch onwards.”

“Alright,” Harry said, already looking forward to work on Monday. “What time?”

“I’ll drop in after lunch,” Draco said, smiling across the table at Harry.

“Sounds good.” Harry smiled back.

///

Harry and Ginny spent the weekend discussing the details moving forward. They decided against a formal divorce for the time being, but left the idea on the table. They also decided that Harry would move into the city, and Ginny would stay in their bungalow which was more fitting for the head of a ministry department. Ginny still hadn’t decided if she would accept the promotion, but Harry had convinced her that it was better to be safe than sorry. They also decided that whatever Harry got would be large enough for the entire family, since he would be watching the kids a lot if Ginny did take the promotion.

By Sunday night, they had established open door policies between the two houses, and Harry had convinced Ginny to take the promotion. They had also decided to put aside any unspoken cool-down periods. If either or both of them had dates the next day, that was fine. Harry had felt a little guilty about that at first, but he saw Ginny daydreaming at the same time and relaxed. Over the course of those two days, they completely changed their lives.

And they were both excited to see what the future would bring.

///

“Are you insane?” Draco exploded when Harry had finished explaining his weekend to him Monday afternoon. “What sort of people willingly upend their entire lives over a weekend?”

“People who are ready to stop living like shadows,” Harry replied calmly, sliding a file across the desk to Draco. “People who know what they want, and are finally ready to take it.”

Draco picked up the file and started skimming through it. “But it’s insane to do it so quickly!” he protested.

“We had two whole days from sunup to sundown to sort through it,” Harry said. “Everything’s in order expectation-wise. She’s free to find someone that loves her in every way, and I’m ready to find a man to fall madly in love with, if I haven’t already.”

Malfoy, seeming to miss Harry’s undertone, looked mildly irritated at that. “And what if you both fall for the same bloke?” he asked acidly.

“I don’t think that’ll happen, you daft idiot.”

“Don’t call me a daft idiot! And what makes you so sure?”

“Because Ginny doesn’t like blonde ferrets.”

Draco dropped the file he was holding. “You’re right, I am a daft idiot,” he said. “I had a busy weekend, sorry. Are we flirting for real now, or just for fun?”

“Why not both?” Harry replied. “Fun flirting is a great way to learn about each other while still, well, flirting.”

Draco rubbed his temples. “Harry, I’m not sure how I feel about this,” he said. “Yes, we like each other, and yes, we could possibly engage in a sordid affair, but we’ve been on speaking terms for less than a week. Surely there’s some rule against that.”

Harry reached over, grabbed Draco’s hand, and squeezed it.

“If you want to take it slow, that’s fine,” Harry said. “I just want you to know that this is something I really want to consider. It’s _not_ just playful flirting.” Draco squeezed his hand back.

“Thank you, Harry,” he replied softly. “I just need time to think about it. And I have to speak to Astoria, obviously. You understand, of course, that there will be no actual sordid affairs.”

“Of course,” Harry said, nodding. “Let’s take it slow then. Why don’t the four of us go out to dinner? You, me, Astoria, and Ginny. Everyone can get to know everyone else.”

“Sounds like the start of a dangerous friendship between our wives.”

“Probably.”

Draco sighed and looked up into Harry’s eyes. “Alright, but nothing too grand.”

///

They finished processing the new materials into the Malfoy records that afternoon, and agreed on Thursday night for the dinner. That gave Harry three days to start looking for a place to live. He wasn’t moving out until the New Year, but he wanted to make the transition as smooth as possible when it came.

He set up an appointment for Wednesday afternoon to meet with a real estate agent. He already knew he wanted a home in the city for getting to the Ministry easily, and he wanted each of the kids to have their own room. But he wasn’t sure what he wanted besides that. As he looked at his short list of requirements, he added muggle to the list. Wizarding neighborhoods would guarantee neighbors that would never leave him alone.

He took the afternoon off on Wednesday, and by a quarter after one, he was discussing his options with a young real estate agent named Houser. This amused Harry to no ends, but he didn’t dare say anything, mostly because the man reminded him of Percy Weasley.

“Well, Mr. Potter, I can certainly find you something, but it won’t be cheap. The London muggle market is tremendously expensive, especially near the ministry.” He peered over his glasses at Harry. “The cheapest property with four bedrooms near the ministry is over two and half million pounds.”

Harry choked on his tea.

“Well, you can scrap that requirement.” He sputtered. “Two million tops, and that’s only if I can’t live without it. What about the greater Westminster area?”

“That was the greater Westminster area,” Houser said dryly. “And a chunk of St. James to boot.”

“Well then, let’s just try to keep it to less than an hour’s walk, shall we?” Harry muttered meekly.

The disapproving expression on Houser’s face was ruined by the excited twinkle in his eye.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “Come back tomorrow morning.”

///

Shockingly, Ginny had no objections to the group dinner idea, although she was irritated Harry hadn’t told her until the day before. She was actually excited to meet Astoria because the young woman had made a large donation to St. Mungo’s the previous quarter, and Ginny wanted to tell her about the improvements that had been done with the gift.

She let her complaint about the short notice go, however, when she saw Harry’s list of requirements for his new house. She thought it was hilarious that it was so short, and she sat him down to help expand it after dinner.

“What is it about the bungalow that you like?” she asked him. “That should be your starting point.”

“I like that the kids all have their own rooms,” Harry started before Lily interrupted.

“But I don’t need a _big_ space dad!” she said. “I never go in my room if it’s not bedtime, and I don’t have a lot of stuff.”

Harry chuckled.

“Well thank you Lily,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind. What do you want in your dream house?”

Lily wrinkled her nose. “My own bathroom,” she said. “I don’t like sharing with Jamie and Al. Boys are messy. Or at least Jamie is.”

Ginny laughed at that.

“I’ll vouch for their disaster of a bathroom,” she said. “It’s awful.”

“I feel like I’ve not noticed this before,” Harry said innocently. “I wonder why?”

“Because it’s the only chore you leave them to do themselves!” Ginny said. “They’re spoiled rotten with you doing all the chores, and you know it!”

“Well then, bathrooms.” Harry turned back to the list as if he hadn’t heard. “I think I’d also like a large kitchen. I don’t want to eat in a dining room all the time when it’s just me in the house.”

“Well, but space for one would be good.” Ginny said. “We can have dinner dates!”

Harry grinned.

“Just imagine awkwardly introducing our dates and explaining that we’re still married.”

“We can pretend not to get along and make them uncomfortable!” Ginny was laughing out loud now.

“Or reminisce throughout dinner about each other to our dates!” Harry was on the floor now, laughing his head off. Lily watched them both with an exasperated expression.

“Grown-ups are so weird,” she said matter-of-factly.

///

Together they got the list expanded a bit, and Harry was ready the next morning when he arrived at Houser’s office.

“Good morning, Mr. Potter.”

“Good morning, Mr. Houser.” The agent peered at the list Harry handed him.

“Oh, very good, this I can work with. “Depending on how far you’re willing to be from the ministry, I might even be able to keep it under a million pounds.” He held up a finger to halt Harry’s enthusiastic movement. “But don’t get your hopes up. I would be prepared to get a lot closer to two.”

Harry sighed, but steeled his nerves.

“What does that work out to in galleons at the moment?”

“The galleon is strong against the pound right now, but inflation has still driven everything up. You’re looking at somewhere in the neighborhood of six hundred thousand.” Harry paled. He could afford that, but he would need to be very careful about how he went about paying for it.

“Let’s begin in Plimco,” Houser continued. “There’s a house on Guildhouse Street that meets most of your requirements, but Lily won’t have her own bathroom and one of your sons will have to climb two stories to take a shower.”

“How much is that going for?” Harry asked.

“One point eight million pounds,” Houser replied promptly.

“Not a chance.”

“There’s a large reception area here in Ashley Gardens, but again: plenty of toilets, not so many baths.”

“I hope this isn’t going to become a pattern,” Harry said sternly, looking at the floor plan. “Keep that second one in the running just because it’s shaped funny.”

Houser looked indignantly at Harry, but set it aside.

“What’s the point of having criteria if you’re just going to throw them away?”

“What’s the point of showing me houses with less than two and a half baths?” Harry retorted.

Eventually, Harry and Houser got the list narrowed down to a few houses scattered around the city. In addition to the funny-shaped one in Ashley Gardens, there was a large townhouse in Kennington that had an excess of everything Harry needed. There was also a strange flat in St. George’s that had a bunch of bathrooms but a small kitchen, and a flat in Aldgate that was wide and spacious in a way so many other houses weren’t.

Harry sighed as he flipped through the last house in the piles. It was a tiny little townhouse Harry would have been willing to overlook all the flaws in just for the nineteenth-century décor, but it was just too impractical. He threw it into the discard pile, and turned to Houser.

“Alright, I’d like to see these four,” he said warily. “As soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Houser said. “I’ll owl you when I have appointments.”

“Thanks,” Harry said as they stood. “Really, I appreciate this.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Houser replied, ushering him out the door. “I want this wrapped up before the holidays too, you know.”

///

“I still don’t know what you see in Malfoy, but I promise to behave myself,” Ginny said, riffling through Harry’s closet. “Although I guess I always knew this could end up happening, deep down.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, startled.

“I mean he’s always fascinated you, more so than I ever have.”

“You know I love you.” Harry pulled her into a hug. “And I always will.”

“But I’m right, and you know it,” Ginny said, stepping back. She didn’t look sad, though. “The world moves faster as we get older, and sometimes it’s all we can do to keep up.” She kissed his cheek before placing a shirt in his hands. “If you can get ahead of it, go for it!” Harry looked down at the beautiful teal shirt and smiled sadly.

“I just feel bad that I’m moving faster than you are.”

“Don’t!” Ginny said, picking up her handbag and walking out of the room. “I’ve got a date on Saturday.”

///

When Harry and Ginny arrived in Swindon, Harry panicked for a moment. He’d told Draco to meet them on the edge of Lawns Park, but the park was larger than he had expected. He might have wandered for several minutes looking for Draco and Astoria if they hadn’t appeared right next to him a moment after he arrived.

“Well now, that was easy,” Ginny said.

“Shall we?” Harry asked after a quick round of introductions.

“That depends,” Draco said. “Where are we going?”

“Lebanese?” Ginny suggested. “There’s a new restaurant a bit down the road, according to local sources.”

“What local sources?” Astoria asked, looking worried. “I’d rather not eat somewhere a total stranger recommended to some folks in the park.”

Ginny coughed, and pointed behind Astoria. Draco failed miserably to stifle a snort of amusement as Astoria turned to see a large illuminated advertisement for the restaurant ten feet behind her. Without missing a beat, Astoria kicked Draco in the shin.

“Sounds lovely, my dear,” she said, linking arms with Ginny. The two ladies set off down the street, leaving Draco to lean on Harry as his leg recovered.

“If I didn’t know better, I would never know she’s sick,” Harry said, supporting Draco by the arm. “I might think that she maybe doesn’t get outside as often as she should, but I’d never guess she was seriously ill.”

“What she lacks in stamina, she makes up for in spirit,” Draco said, testing his weight on his injured leg.

“Oh, it’s not that bad, you big baby,” Harry said, setting off down the street after their wives. Draco followed, feigning a bad limp and grousing softly to himself.

The restaurant was only a couple blocks away, which was fortunate for Astoria, who was looking a little winded by the time they arrived.

“What sounds good to everyone?” asked Harry after they were all seated. “I’ve never had Lebanese food before.”

“Neither have I, but it all sounds amazing.” Draco’s stomach gurgled. “Hush you.”

Astoria rolled her eyes, but Harry chortled.

“Did you eat anything for lunch?” Astoria demanded.

“I had a late breakfast,” he replied. “I prefer to sleep in on days where I don’t have to get up.”

“And those days are?” Ginny asked.

“Most days.” Astoria said dryly.

Harry snorted.

“I just can’t deal with you right now,” Astoria said. “I am positively offended at the idea of you willingly skipping a meal.” She turned to Ginny, holding her menu so that it effectively blocked Draco from their conversation. Draco looked at Harry bemusedly.

“It’s because she doesn’t often get the choice,” he whispered. “If she can’t eat, she can’t eat.”

Harry ordered the sambousek cheese as an appetizer, while Draco ordered the mixed mezza, a chef’s selection of various appetizers, for himself. Harry didn’t feel it wise to point out that it served two people. Astoria ordered a tahini salad, and resumed talking to Ginny after she’d ordered hommos for herself.

While they ate their appetizers, everyone was brought up to speed in regards to Astoria’s illness and Harry and Ginny’s relationship. Astoria didn’t seem to be surprised to hear about Harry and Ginny, but Harry hadn’t told Ginny about Astoria’s malediction. Ginny inadvertently postponed the awkward conversation that was to come by gushing to Astoria about her generous gift to the hospital in the face of her own illness. This gave Draco and Harry a chance to look over the menu so they were ready to order when the waiter arrived. While Astoria and Ginny flipped through the menu in a panic, Harry ordered the shish taouk, which was marinated cubes of chicken as far as he could tell, and Draco ordered the mixed grill. Astoria decided the tahini salad would be enough for her, and Ginny ordered chicken escalope.

Ginny was telling Astoria about Harry as a husband when the food arrived, something that made Harry tremendously uncomfortable even though she had nothing but good things to say about him. In an effort to block the conversation out, he looked at Draco, who was staring at him with a warm smile. It was quite nice to be looked at by Draco, Harry decided.

“If you sleep in most mornings,” Harry started, “ballet must be easier than I thought.”

“Horse shit,” Draco said calmly. “It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

“How did you get started doing something like that?” Harry asked. “You never struck me as the kind of person to willingly do anything difficult.”

“How dare you!” Draco exclaimed. “I put up with your insufferable presence for all those years at Hogwarts, didn’t I?”

“You know what I mean,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, but where’s the fun in just rolling over and letting you wound me?”

“Wanker.”

“Twat.”

They sat for a moment, listening to Astoria and Ginny as they moved on to talking about their kids while the waiter refilled their water glasses.

“I started doing ballet when I was six,” Draco continued suddenly. “My mother said it was good exercise and good training for being graceful, something she always wished my father was. My father allowed it because he saw how much I enjoyed and benefited from it. I loved it.” He closed his eyes and swirled the water in his cup. “But I stopped training regularly when I went to Hogwarts, and even my summer practices stopped after-,” Draco swallowed. “-after _he_ moved in. I fell terribly out of practice, and I missed some of the peak years of my career because of him.

“But I started again after it was all over. After the trials were finished, I started again just so I would have some structure to cling to. It was the scaffolding I rebuilt my life with. I trained for years to try and get back to where I was. I finally managed to get good enough to debut, and I danced my first solo role as the cavalier in the Nutcracker in Bristol at twenty-seven years old.”

“That’s amazing,” Harry said, awestruck.

“No, it’s not!” Draco said firmly. “A danseur is a well-seasoned performer by the time he’s twenty-seven. I barely made the cut. But I danced with passion and discipline, and that was enough for Bristol. But I only danced their cavalier because they didn’t have a principle dancer in-house to do it. I’d never been part of a true corps-du-ballet until I came to Sadler’s Wells. Matthew Bourne took me into his collection and helped me make the transition from impostor to danseur. He helped me so much, and I can never repay him for what he’s done for me. I danced for him for eight years. I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into his works with all the energy I had to give. And he repaid my efforts a hundred fold with last week’s benefit performance. It was his gift to me for my retirement.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, alarmed.

“Those missing years cost me any longevity I might have had in ballet,” Draco said quietly. “I’m finished. I danced my last show on that Saturday.”

Harry was silent, trying to process that he would never be able to see that beauty and sensuality on stage again. Astoria and Ginny had fallen silent too, listening to Draco’s story.

“I was there,” Harry said weakly. “I saw your final performance.”

Draco smiled at him.

“Don’t be upset!” he said. “Yeah, it’s sad, but I’m just glad I was even given the chance. So many others never get the opportunity to live the life I’ve gotten to live.”

Harry looked up and smiled at him.

“I know,” he said, “but God were you beautiful up there.”

Harry nearly missed the look Ginny gave Astoria as he said that because he was staring at Draco with such burning intensity that the candles flared up. Draco was smiling back at him, his gaze boring into Harry like he wanted to go for a walk in Harry’s eyes and get himself lost for a while. Harry’s heart lurched. Maybe he was moving too fast, but that didn’t matter to him now. All that mattered was that Harry was head over heels in love with the man sitting across from him, and he was pretty sure the other man felt the same way.

“Would anyone care for dessert?” the waiter said, jolting everyone back to the present. Harry looked expectantly at Draco, as did Astoria and Ginny. Draco laughed.

“I can see I’m clearly responsible for this decision.”

They ended up all sharing a plate of baklava as they sipped milkshakes, which Harry thought was strange to find at a Lebanese restaurant, but they were good and he was happy. Harry paid, which annoyed Draco, but he didn’t grump too loudly about it, and they left the restaurant together. As they walked back to the park, the four of them discussed their children, their jobs (or in Draco’s case, his job prospects), and their plans for the holidays. Draco planned on a quiet Christmas with Scorpius, as Astoria was going to rest with her family, and Lucius and Narcissa would be holidaying in Switzerland. Harry and Ginny would be spending it at the bungalow with their kids.

“We should get together during the holidays, and let the boys see each other,” Harry said. “I can tell from Albus’s letters that he’s working up the courage to ask, but he also knows our history.”

“Ooh, that’s a great idea,” Astoria said. “Scorpius hates being at the manor alone.”

“What am I then, a shag rug?” Draco said with a smile. “Okay, but let’s keep it secret from them.”

“You are every bit as evil as I remember,” Ginny teased.

“I hope you see each other before then though!” Astoria interjected.

“I hope we do to.” Harry said with a smile.

“Of course,” Draco said. Before Harry could react, Draco kissed him on the cheek and disapparated with Astoria. Harry flushed as Ginny wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“Alright, you’ve sold me,” she said.

“On what?”

“On the idea that Malfoy might not be a total wanker anymore.”

Harry said nothing as he took her arm, but he smiled as they turned into darkness.

///

“Sounds like the date went well then,” Hermione said over coffee the next afternoon.

“Yeah, I really think it did,” Harry replied. “I’m not sure if you can really call it a date though.”

“Of course you can. Everyone present knew what the end goal really was, and it sounds like no one objected to the idea at the end of the night.”

“I mean,” Harry said cautiously, “it’s a start, but I still have to think about Ginny and the kids during this process.”

“What’s there left to think about?!” Hermione said exasperatedly. She stared at Harry for a moment before sighing. “Look, Harry, I was shocked when you came out to me. It just didn’t make any sense at the time. I still can’t believe how calm Ron was at the time. Sometimes I think he took so long to process the idea that he was used to it before he really grasped it. But my point is, as shocked as we were, we’ve adapted now, and we can both see you and Ginny need more than what you’ve got. That chance is now here, and you both need to take it.”

Harry looked down at the foam on his coffee as Hermione spoke.

“I won’t admit I saw you getting together with Malfoy, of all people, though. You two have always had an intense relationship, but never like that.”

Harry snorted.

“You have no idea.”

Hermione stopped and looked at him sadly.

“No, I don’t suppose I do,” she said. “What I do know is that you need this, so you need to go for it.”

Harry sighed.

“Let’s just see what happens.”

///

Harry spent Saturday Christmas shopping with a list that turned out to be much longer than he had anticipated. He found a necklace for Ginny with a beautiful stone set into it that was charmed to match whatever outfit she wore. For James, Harry got the same gift he’d received in his own third year: a broomstick servicing kit. For Albus, he found a book he’d seen Albus eying over Rose’s shoulder last summer, and for Lily, he bought a new quill from an American import store. It was a vibrant pink flamingo feather, and he knew she would love using it to write letters to her brothers at school.

His immediate family taken care of, he turned to his extended family. For Hermione, he picked up a recently-released book about the lesser-known ministers for magic. For Ron, he bought tickets to the Chudley Cannon’s opening game in the next season. For Rose, he got an illustrated encyclopedia of magical plants from all around the world, and for Hugo, a new set of scales guaranteed to stay balanced for a lifetime. For Molly and Arthur, he purchased a brand new set of cookware Ginny had recommended he get.

Everyone else would get Christmas cards normally, but there were extra names on his list this year. For Scorpius, Harry got a crystal sphere about the size of a quaffle that had a spinning model of the galaxy in it. After a long while of hemming and hawing, he purchased a deep charcoal grey cashmere sweater for Draco that he thought (hoped) would look amazing with his eyes. He also grabbed a sky-blue scarf for Astoria, and added Lucius and Narcissa to his Christmas card list.

“That’s enough right?” Harry mumbled to himself as he left the last store, hoping he wasn’t being presumptuous with these last gifts.

“It’s never enough for the one you love,” a window mannequin said wisely.

///

Ginny’s date turned out to be one of Hermione’s undersecretaries, a reasonably handsome young man named Anson. Harry was pleased to realize that he felt no jealousy at all as he watched Ginny take his arm and disappear to whatever function she had.

He and Lily made cookies that evening, and after she was off to bed, Harry boxed a few and sent an owl to Draco, inviting him to criticize houses with him on Monday. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he felt like it would be good to have another opinion besides his own and Houser’s. Besides, Harry was focused on floor plans and practicality. Draco could help him find design flaws and think about closet space and things like that.

He didn’t expect a reply that night, so he turned in early to be ready for Sunday and his to-do list. Unfortunately, Draco did reply that night, and Harry’s owl arrived, exhausted, just before midnight. It woke him up with a clatter and he jerked awake, accidentally smacking Ginny’s arm.

“I know I was out late, but there’s no need for that,” she mumbled through her pillow.

“Sorry,” Harry whispered as he got up. The owl hopped in and collapsed on the floor when Harry opened the window to reveal a tempest of snow.

“You poor baby,” Harry cooed. “Did Draco make you fly back in this mess?” The owl stuck its leg out with a noise Harry would have called a honk rather than a hoot, still lying face down on the floor. Harry untied the message and scooped the owl off the floor and over to its perch. He refilled the water dish and left some owl treats out before crawling back into bed with Draco’s letter. He switched on the bedside lamp and began to read.

 

 

> _Harry,_
> 
> _I’m sorry if the storm hits before your owl gets home. It’s supposed to last until Monday, which is rather too late for a reply, so I sent him back hoping to beat the weather._
> 
> _All talk of owls aside; I’d be pleased to join you on Monday. Astoria is under the weather at the moment, but she has insisted I go to help you. You will understand, of course, that if she takes a turn for the worse, I will need to go to her. She should be fine, though, she’s very resilient._
> 
> _My PA says she saw your wife at the welfare ministry’s Christmas gala with a handsome young man that wasn’t you. It’s somewhat reassuring to know that when one Gryffindor goes insane, the rest follow._
> 
> _See you on Monday,_
> 
> _Draco_

///

“So how was the gala?” Harry asked the next morning as he slid an omelet onto Ginny’s plate.

“It was fine,” she replied. “The usual hobnobbing with morons that want to take money away from the hospital and give it to someone else.”

“Sounds like you’ll have some fun come the new year.”

“You think I’ll have financial discretion?” Ginny scoffed. “Only technically. I have to make sure everyone’s treated fairly now. I used to be able to fight for St. Mungo’s, but now I have to fight for and against everyone in the name of fairness.” She sounded sour as she bit out these last words.

“I still think you’ll do more good than you think,” Harry said, digging into his own omelet. “You have the power to trim the fat and disperse it accordingly. You can make sure that any unnecessary spending is cut and used elsewhere.”

Ginny paused, a bite of omelet halfway to her mouth.

“I hadn’t even thought about that!” she exclaimed, stuffing the fork into her mouth. “And this is really good!”

Harry just smiled.

The rest of that day was spent wrapping presents, cleaning house, and preparing dinner. Coupled with the fact that the archives were closed for the holidays all next week, Harry was feeling very, very good by the time he went to bed.

///

“Good morning, Mr. Houser,” Harry said. “This is Draco Malfoy.”

“We’ve met,” Houser said, shaking Draco’s hand.

“Mr. Houser handles the Malfoy properties in muggle London,” Draco explained.

“Well, perfect,” Harry said. “We can get started right away then.”

The first property they went to was the Kennington town house. It immediately reminded Harry of Grimmauld place, but he found its light colors comforting, nothing like the dingy darkness of the Black ancestral home. The reception room was large, and opened onto a kitchen that wasn’t large enough for Harry to eat in, but with no formal divide between the two rooms, Harry didn’t foresee that being a problem. The kitchen looked out on the back garden, which was accessed via a door on the first landing. On the next floor, there were two bedrooms with a small three-quarter bath off the landing.

“What do you think?” Harry asked Draco. “James in this room, Albus in this one?”

“Why give your middle child the larger of the two rooms?” Draco asked.

“So there’s room for Scorpius when he stays over!” Harry said brightly. “And it’s not like I’m keeping James in a shoebox, it’s a perfectly serviceable room. That’ll be good for when Hugo stays over as well. He hates being alone and James hates sharing.”

The second floor was the master bedroom, and it was large enough to fit two people comfortably. The gigantic master bath didn’t hurt either. The top floor was shared by two bedrooms and a large bathroom. Harry looked around quickly and smiled.  
“Lily can have her own bathroom, and there’s a room left over for Ginny or Rose.” He grinned at Draco.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Draco said with a hint of a smile. “The décor is far too plain.”

“Bugger the décor,” Houser grumbled. “You’ve only seen half the house.” He pushed them back down the stairs. “You still haven’t seen the basement or the detached study.”

The study, which was across the back garden, was delightful even though Harry wasn’t sure what to do with it. The basement could easily fit another person if he needed more beds. There was even a three-quarter bath. It was only accessible externally however, which meant Harry would probably never use it for anything but extra guests.

“Now you can bitch about the décor,” Houser said. “Draco?”

“Plain, but up to date and in good condition,” Draco replied.

“That’s all you have to say?” Houser asked cautiously.

“And, of course, it’s muggle. You’ll have to adapt it for magic.”

Harry sighed. He hadn’t thought about that, but it would be true of all these properties.

The next house was a flat on St. George’s Drive with a ridiculously oversized reception area and a bathroom for every bedroom in the house. That was nice, but the kitchen was very narrow.

“And the bedrooms are absolutely tiny,” Draco noted.

“They’re large…enough,” Harry retorted half-heartedly. “There’s no need for a large room if all you do is sleep in it.”

“Maybe not, but I assume you have some possessions?”

Harry sighed. As usual, Draco was right. Although none of his kids really had all that much stuff, he didn’t fancy the idea of them not having any space for what they did have.

The master bedroom was on the other side of the entrance, up two steps with its own bathtub. But even that bedroom was very small.

“Well,” Draco sniffed. “ _I_ wouldn’t sleep here if you paid me.”

Harry crossed that flat off his list, which was too bad, since it really was a great place besides the size of the bedrooms. In addition, it was modern and nice, and just over a million pounds. Maybe with some extension charms he could add it back to the list. He decided to ask Houser about that later. With a jolt, he realized that he was getting far too used to the idea of Draco sleeping in his bed, which was probably something he shouldn’t factor into his decision, but he just couldn’t help it.

They stopped for a quick bite to eat at a deli before going on to the next house in Aldgate. When they arrived, Harry was feeling a little apprehensive. It had seemed like a good place on paper, despite only having three bedrooms, but he wasn’t so sure now. It was listed for two million pounds, and he was already wary.

“Wow,” Draco said when they walked in. “It’s modern for my tastes, but it’s really nice and well laid-out.” Harry, of course, was just happy there were enough bathrooms. The kitchen opened onto the living room and created a wide space that looked over the city through a wall of glass. James and Albus would have to share a room, but they could deal with that, even if James would grump about it. If it wasn’t so expensive, Harry probably would have been sold on it pretty quickly.

Houser had not scheduled a visit to the Ashley Gardens house, which was fine with Harry. Despite his petulance about the funny bedroom, he knew it wouldn’t be any better than one of these three.

“I’ve got a lot to think about,” he told Houser as they left the building. “Can we meet tomorrow to talk about it?”

“I’ll be free at three,” Houser said. “Would you like-” he was cut off by an owl that swooped down and landed on Draco’s shoulder. Draco didn’t seem to notice the stares from muggle passersby as he scanned the message, his eyebrows slanting dangerously.

“I have to go. Astoria’s taken a bad turn, Draco said before he disapparated, leaving Harry and Houser to sort out the confused muggles he left in his wake.

///

Harry didn’t hear from Draco until the next day, and although he would never admit it out loud, it distressed him to the point he couldn’t sleep. When Ginny woke the next morning to find that Harry had cleaned the entire house and reorganized the bookshelves, she sighed heavily. She made breakfast without mentioning Draco, but it was obvious to Harry that she was irritated with him for not keeping them updated.

Harry penned a letter to Draco asking about Astoria’s health before exhaustion took him down for a few hours. When he awoke after lunch, he found an owl sleeping on the night stand next to him, holding a letter in its beak. Although none too happy about being woken from its own nap, the owl gave him the letter and flew out the window. Harry opened it and scanned the page.

 

 

> _Harry,_
> 
> _I’m sorry for my abrupt departure yesterday, and for not being in contact sooner. Astoria’s turn was a bad one, and although she has stabilized now, it was touch and go for a few hours. This happens occasionally, but every time is possibly the last, so it’s rather stressful for everyone involved, especially since we can’t do much besides wait._
> 
> _She will need tending to for the rest of the day, but assuming nothing goes poorly, she should be fine by tomorrow, at which point she will inevitably throw me out of the house. Do you have any plans for the afternoon tomorrow?_
> 
> _Fondly,_
> 
> _Draco_

Harry’s heart skipped a beat when he read the word _Fondly_. He was relieved that Astoria was alright, and excited to see Draco the next afternoon. If things went as Harry wanted them to today, he would be shopping for furniture this time tomorrow. He penned a quick reply to Draco, hoping he would be happy to spend time with Harry as he shopped, and readied himself for his appointment with Houser.

When he arrived, Houser had three files on the table, one for each house they’d visited yesterday. Harry sighed and opened the one for St. George’s Drive.

“You can scrap this one,” he said. “The size of the bedrooms is something I don’t think I can get over. There would be no room for guests to sleep. And the kitchen was too narrow.”

“Pity that,” Houser said. “It was the cheapest one.”

“I really like both of these,” Harry said, looking through both the remaining houses. “But neither is perfect, and they’re both too expensive.”

“Ah, about that,” Houser said. “You’ll never guess what I found out last night.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting.

“Oh, pooh, you’re no fun.” Houser huffed. “The Kennington townhouse is owned by a Mr. Dennis Creevy. When he found out you were interested in buying it, he said he’d knock the price down to one and a half, just for you.”

Harry gaped. Dennis Creevy owned the house he was looking at? And wanted to give him a three-hundred thousand pound discount? Harry was pretty sure his and Ginny’s current bungalow had only cost a little more than that difference.

“That’s, I mean,” he stammered. “I couldn’t possibly-”

“If you choose it, you most certainly could possibly!” Houser interjected. “I don’t work on commission, you know. I would be a fool to let anyone pass up such an opportunity.”

“I’m really not comfortable-”

“I was told to tell you it would be an insult to Collin if you refused.”

Harry clenched his fists.

“…he wasn’t even supposed to be there,” Harry said after a moment.

“I don’t know what that means,” Houser said. “But I can tell you that Mr. Creevy was a very determined young man.”

Harry sighed.

“Fine. If I choose that house, I’ll take it.”

As it turned out, Harry did choose the townhouse. The flat was nice, but the high price with only three bedrooms was too unreasonable a combination. Houser had the paperwork prepared for the townhouse, so Harry signed that afternoon. Now all he had to do was hope it closed quickly.

He stopped at Diagon Alley on the way home to send a letter to Draco and check in with Gringotts about payment options. When he got home, the day’s exhaustion caught up with him, and he went to bed immediately after dinner, kissing Ginny and Lily goodnight before collapsing onto the mattress, still dressed.

///

The next morning, Harry was awakened by Lily jumping on him.

“Come on dad, get up! It’s almost ten!”

“Grmnll,” was all Harry could manage in response.

“You promised you would make pancakes!” she said, bouncing a little. “That chef lady that came to school last week said Americans eat them for breakfast, and you said you and I would do it sometime!”

“Pnkks”

“ _Dad!_ ”

Harry sighed and rolled over, dislodging his daughter from his back.

“Yes, Lily, I know, I know.”

Why the local primary school let out before Hogwarts, Harry had no idea, but he didn’t really mind. He loved his kids dearly, even when they jumped on his spine.

Of course, all the love in the world didn’t mean it hurt any less when they did.

He grumbled his way into the shower and into his clothes, and by the time he got downstairs, he was his normal self again. Whether that was an improvement or not remained to be seen.

“Did someone say pancakes?” he asked, sliding a stack onto the table in front of Lily.

“Meeee!” she squealed, spooning strawberries over the plate as soon as Harry was out of the way. Harry settled into his own stack, and they ate their breakfast while they made funny faces at each other.

“Hey Lil,” Harry said after a particularly vicious round of laughter had left a stitch in his side. “Do you want to go with me to look at furniture for the new house today? I’m meeting Mr. Malfoy after lunch to pick some out.”

“Why are you meeting Mr. Malfoy?” Lily asked, wrinkling her nose. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“No, no, I like him just fine,” Harry said. “We just didn’t get along at school.”

“I will never like Thomas Hickinbotham,” Lily said firmly. “He pulls my hair in class.”

We’ll see about that, Harry thought to himself, although he was happy that, for now at least, Lily knew better than to like boys that picked on her.

“Wait, why is Mr. Malfoy helping you pick furniture?”

“Because Mr. Malfoy has posh tastes, and knows what will look good.”

“And I don’t?” Lily asked, offended.

“No, you don’t, Miss Orange & Red Socks.”

Lily looked down at her feet.

“What’s wrong with my socks?” she asked angrily.

“Nothing, if you like them,” Harry said. “But to be perfectly honest, I’m not that fond of them myself.”

Lily looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

“Fine, I’ll come,” she said after a moment. “But only if I can paint my new room whatever color I want.”

Harry was suddenly glad her room was on the top floor in the townhouse.

“Deal.”

///

“That,” Draco said as the three of them watched the sun set from an upstairs table at the Leaky Cauldron, “was extremely cathartic. Thank you for inviting me.”

Harry had to agree with Draco; it was rather satisfying to buy an entire house’s worth of furnishings in a few hours. They had spent the entire afternoon running in and out of various stores and shops, selecting furniture and other odds and ends to be delivered to the new house on Saturday. Draco had insisted Harry get a large canopy bed, and Lily insisted his dishes and cookware had to be brightly-colored, but for the most part they did defer to his desires. Harry was happy with the day’s selections, aside from some ambiguity he felt about a grandfather clock an antiquities dealer had persuaded him into.

An owl fluttered in the window and landed on Harry’s shoulder. He took the scroll from it and read aloud.

 

 

> _Mr. Potter-_
> 
> _Mr. Creevy signed this afternoon and turned the key over. My estimate was correct; you will be able to move in by tomorrow. The payment details have been sent to Gringotts, so please swing by there tomorrow to deal with that._
> 
> _It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Potter, and I thank you for your business. I attached my bill to the house details I sent on to Gringotts, and the key here._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Francis S. Houser_

Harry looked back at the owl, which was holding out its other leg. Attached was a single muggle key. Harry removed it, and the owl flew away.

“Well, that looks like something to celebrate if I ever saw it, Draco said, putting his arm out and grasping Harry’s hand. Lily threw her arms around her father’s neck and jumped up and down.

“Yay! Yay! Yay!”

“My thoughts exactly,” Harry said, looking across at Draco, his eyes twinkling.

When Lily wandered off to use the toilet, Harry leaned towards Draco.

“Ginny’s holiday starts tomorrow, so she’ll be watching Lily. Would you like to do something, er, not related to my insanity?” he asked, smiling hopefully.

“Astoria goes to her parents’ tonight, and Scorpius isn’t home until Friday, so tomorrow would be a perfect day for something fun. Although,” he continued. “I rather enjoy the products of your insanity. Why don’t we go see the house again?”

“We just saw it on Monday!”

“But now it’s _yours_ ,” Draco said, leaning forward to whisper the word in his ear. Harry shivered.

“Alright,” he said. “I have to deal with the goblins in the morning, so how about we meet for lunch? We can find somewhere in the neighborhood, and start getting to know the area.”

“I like the way you say ‘we.’” Draco smirked.

Harry flushed, but couldn’t deny that he’d stopped thinking of Draco as an outside factor several days ago.

“That sounds good, let’s do that,” Draco said, leaning back as Lily came back into sight. “How does 11:30 sound? Meet at Gringotts?”

“Sounds good to me,” Harry replied as Hannah Abbott rang the bell to signal the start of dinner orders.

///

When Harry walked out of Gringotts the next day, he slipped on a patch of ice left over from the weekend’s blizzard, and would have broken his tailbone if someone hadn’t caught him.

“Graceful as ever, I see.”

“Shut up Draco,” Harry grumbled, “And thank you.”

“Slytherins can be valiant sometimes too, you know,” Draco said airily. “Did you get everything sorted with the bank?”

“Yes, but I almost wish I hadn’t. They made me do a lump payment for the house. Apparently large transactions between wizard and muggle currency are a pain, and they only wanted to do it once.”

“Lazy buggers,” Draco said darkly. “I do routine chunks larger than that all the time.”

“It’s fine.” Harry sighed. “It’s just a larger chunk than I wanted all at once.”

“How was the conversion rate?”

“It was actually really good at the moment. Houser told me to expect at least six hundred thousand galleons, but it was only around four hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Well, that’s good then.”

They walked together in silence towards an apparition point, ignoring the puzzled stares of the people who hadn’t gawked at the strange pair enough yesterday. They disapparated and appeared in an alley nearby the townhouse.

“Now, let’s see what this new neighborhood has to offer,” Harry said.

///

The answer, it turned out, was not much. However, there was a pub right next to the townhouse that was opening just as they arrived. It was comfortable, cozy, and perfectly delightful. Harry was glad to find such a nice place so close to home, especially since there were going to be many nights he spent alone there.

“Afternoon gents, what can I do you for?” the bartender asked when they walked in.

“Fancy a pint?” Harry asked Draco, looking over the specials on the wall. “Grasshopper for me, please.

“Make that two,” Draco said. “And your spiced chicken, bacon, and avocado salad please.”

“I’d like the wild boar sausages with mash and gravy please,” Harry said, sitting down at the bar.

“Right away,” the bartender said, setting their ale on the bar and disappearing into the kitchen.

“Oh, there’s jazz on Sundays,” Draco said, noticing an advertisement on the wall.

“Sounds heavenly,” Harry said, taking a sip of his ale. “Want to come with me sometime?”

“I mean, any time you want to,” Draco said with a wink. Harry flushed and put his head down on the bar.

“I walked right into that,” he said into the bar. “Can’t blame anyone but myself.”

“Damn right,” Draco said, sipping his ale.

The food, when it came, was amazing. The barkeeper was friendly, kept them in ale, and seemed to be genuinely interested in them as they all spoke.

“You gents from around here?” he asked them.

“Er, in a manner of speaking,” Harry said, looking at Draco. “I am the proud new owner of the house next door.”

“Oh!” the barkeeper said excitedly. “Dennis said he was selling, but that was just last week he told me!”

“It was a very fast sale,” Harry said. “We’re old school friends.”

“We?” Draco muttered. “I can’t even put a face to the little-” He was cut off by Harry’s elbow in his ribs.

“Hogwarts, then.” The bartender nodded knowingly. “Strange name for a school, can’t find anything about it online.”

“Er, yeah,” Harry said, mentally taking a note to talk to Dennis later. “It’s very small, up in the highlands of Scotland.”

“What sort of school is it, hidden all the way up there?” the bartender persisted.

“Er-” Harry hesitated.

“Magic,” Draco said, wiggling his fingers mysteriously. Harry looked scandalized, but the bartender laughed out loud.

“Alright, don’t tell me,” he said. “Leave me to stew in my curiosity. I’m Gerald, by the way.”

After introductions were finished, Draco paid Gerald before Harry could get his wallet out, and they wandered outside and into the front garden. Harry took out the key and looked at Draco.

“You’re right. It is different now that it’s _mine_.” He whispered the word into Draco’s ear and was pleased to see Draco’s ears turn pink. “Shall we?”

Harry unlocked the door and went inside. He took a deep breath in, and sighed happily. Draco surprised him by hugging him from behind, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder.

“It’s a beautiful old house,” Draco said.

“Maybe it’s you whispering in my ear,” Harry said, “Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve always been shite with alcohol, but as I stand here in my new house, all I can think about is how well you’ll fit in with the décor.”

Draco snorted and let go of Harry.

“Well, let’s find out,” he said walking into the reception room. He flopped down on the floor in front of the fireplace and opened his mouth in an exaggerated snarl. “How’s this?”

Harry dissolved into giggles, and lay down next to Draco, staring at the ceiling. Draco rolled over and held Harry’s hand.

“Draco…” Harry said, rolling over to look at the blonde. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

“Harry,” Draco replied. “I think I fell in love with you a long time ago.”

Their lips touched for the briefest of instants. They closed their eyes and held each other there as the afternoon sun started to shine in through the windows. Neither of them thought about their wives, or their kids, or their responsibilities. They just lay there, thinking of each other. And that was enough.

Just when Harry thought he would truly doze off, Draco suddenly rolled away from him and sneezed, once, twice, three times. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his nose before rolling back to face Harry.

“Harry,” he said. “I love you, but if we lie on this dusty carpet any longer, I’m going to die, and then you’ll have to dispose of me, and that’s just too much to ask of someone so early in a relationship.”

Harry groaned and rolled over to stand up. When had he gotten too old to get off the floor?

“Alright then, let’s actually wander around and think about what we’re going to do with the place.”

“We?”

“Yes, we.”

///

When the Hogwarts Express rolled into platform nine and three-quarters at six the next evening, Harry and Ginny were there to greet James and Albus as they disembarked. Albus made a beeline for Harry and gave him a fierce hug.

“Dad, can I go visit Score after Christmas, _please_?” he begged.

Harry looked up to see Scorpius standing in front of Draco a little ways away, apparently asking the same question.

“I don’t know, Al, it’s really sudden and Mr. Malfoy is probably busy-”

“He’s not!” Al interrupted. “Score says it’s just him and his dad for the holidays this year. They’ll have _loads_ of time!”

“I, well, maybe,” Harry said, seeing Malfoy wink at him as Score stood looking crestfallen. “I’ll have to talk to Mr. Malfoy later to see.”

Albus looked so devastated that Harry almost relented then and there. But this was their holiday surprise for the boys this year, and Harry wouldn’t be the one to ruin it. He winked back to Draco when the boys weren’t looking, and Ginny led them out into the softly falling snow.

“Got a boyfriend yet, dad?” James asked when they were out on the street.

“None of your business,” Harry said, ruffling his hair. “But I got a date before your mother did.”

“Barely,” Ginny muttered.

“Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” James said, kissing his mum on the cheek.

“I will have to console myself with the two children remaining to me then.” She sighed.

///

The realities of his new life seemed to be falling into place for Harry as Christmas rolled around, and the more settled it got, the faster it seemed to be moving. When the kids woke up on Christmas morning, they attacked Harry and Ginny, making them get up and downstairs to open presents. Everyone loved the presents Harry got them, although James immediately started dropping hints about needing a new broom to use his kit on. Harry needed to recover from cleaning and decorating the townhouse, a task that had taken all day Saturday, before he considered anything as wild as a new broom.

From Ginny, Harry received a massive muggle history book about America that was written as a narrative. He was very excited about that. From James he got a hat, from Albus he got a scarf, and from Lily he got mittens. Harry suspected that it had been a coordinated effort, although he was a little perplexed when they gave the same gifts, but from different kids, to Ginny. She shared an amused look with him, and the consternated look on Albus’s face made Harry sure there had been some mislabeling. They finished opening the gifts from the rest of the family, and spent the day playing games and enjoying each other’s company. They concluded the evening with a large dinner at the Burrow before heading home and sleeping in late the next morning.

Harry sent a letter to Draco after brunch on Boxing Day, asking after Astoria and about a good day to meet for the boys. Draco replied that afternoon inviting them to visit the next day, promising that he hadn’t told Scorpius, but not saying anything about Astoria. That worried Harry more than he thought it should, but he shrugged it off and went to find Albus.

///

“But why do I have to go with you?” Albus whined. “And why are you picking up some old bugger’s files during the holidays?”

“Watch your language,” Harry scolded. “It’s because he’s a very rich, very important man, and he requested me come today. As for why you have to come with me, it’s because Lily and James are spending the day with your mother, and I don’t want to leave you alone all day.”

Harry disapparated them both to the gates of Malfoy Manor, which swung open to admit them. Albus, despite trying to be sulky, gazed up the drive at the manor in amazement. He didn’t seem to notice the ornate M on the gates, however, and Harry was secretly delighted that the surprise hadn’t been instantly spoiled upon arrival.

“This is a house?” he asked incredulously. “It’s too big to be a house!” Harry laughed at that.

“Normally I would agree, but I rather like this client, so I’m willing to overlook small details like that.”

As Harry rang the bell, Albus turned and looked out over the massive snow-covered gardens. As the door clicked open, a pure white peacock strutted around the corner of the building, surveying them with its beady red eyes. Albus saw it and stared in wonder. The door clicked and swung open as Albus started to speak.

“Dad? Did you know Scorpius has white peacocks too?” he said, still staring at the bird. “It must be a rich person thing.” Harry smiled, silently rejoicing in his son’s obliviousness as the house elf that answered the door looked up at him.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Harry Potter,” she said regally. “Please come this way, the Master is expecting you.” Harry guided Albus through the door, while he kept babbling about peacocks.

“But that doesn’t make sense, does it, Dad?” he said, looking up at Harry. “Those peacocks must be so rare, so how-” He was cut off by a scream of excitement coming from the stairs.

“ _Al!_ ” Scorpius bolted across the foyer and tackled Albus into a hug. The two boys fell backwards onto the stone floor and there was some muffled cursing mixed with the excitement as they righted themselves.

“You knew!” Albus accused Harry as they sat up.

“Of course he knew,” Draco’s voice said as he appeared on the stairs. “Even I know he’s not a _complete_ twit.”

“It’s so nice to know I’m loved,” Harry said, hoping the kids would read it as sarcasm if his invitation to Draco was missed or rejected. _It’s okay_.

“Of course I love you,” Draco said, reaching the bottom of the stairs and sliding his arm around Harry’s waist. “And I hope you love me too, or these two boys are going to think I’ve lost it.” He kissed Harry gently, innocently. _I know._

“Urgh, kissing.” Scorpius wrinkled his nose. Al just gaped at them.

After the initial shock wore off, Albus obviously realized this meant he would see Scorpius more, and therefore could find no fault with the relationship. The boys spent the afternoon exploring the manor while Harry and Draco took a walk in the snow. They held hands and walked in comfortable silence before Harry spoke.

“How’s Astoria?”

Draco didn’t answer immediately, but continued walking before he spoke.

“She’s fine, or so she says,” he said. “I don’t believe her. I’m afraid she might really be on the downhill now.”

“I’m so sorry Draco…”

Draco huffed.

“But as long as she says she’s fine, we continue as usual,” he said, sounding frustrated. “Her parents seem to think she’s as well as she could possibly be, considering the circumstances, and that I’m hovering too much.” He kicked viciously at a clump of snow. “But how can I do anything but?”

Harry said nothing, but caressed the back of Draco’s hand through his glove.

“I’m not letting her come back to the manor for a few weeks,” Draco continued adamantly. “She needs rest, and we have too many visitors here at the manor for that.”

“Will you visit her?”

“We visited yesterday, so I won’t go back for a few days yet.”

“If that’s really what she needs,” Harry said doubtfully. “I guess that’s that.”

They walked together quietly for a few minutes more before Draco started telling Harry about the history of the manor and the different parts of the land surrounding the house. Harry listened, fascinated by all the quirks and facets of running an estate as large as Malfoy Manor and the lands surrounding it, but despite Draco’s running commentary, something about it seemed off, as if he had memorised the words and recited them without thinking. Harry listened and commented appropriately, but paid more attention to Draco than the story. Draco seemed lost in thought much of the time, possibly wandering through the past and remembering days when he was a boy in this very garden, or perhaps times spent there with Astoria. Harry felt a pang of doubt. How could he ever hope to secure a place in Draco’s heart the way Astoria had done? After a while, they went back inside to warm up, which included some cuddling on a couch by a roaring fire that almost seemed to bring Draco back to the present. Almost, but not quite.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, trying not to appear too anxious.

Draco’s smile was immediate, but seemed slightly forced. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Why, indeed? Harry thought gloomily, but he smiled in return, hoping he was just being paranoid. Everything was probably fine.

Too soon, however, the house elf, whose name was Bryony, interrupted the light snogging their cuddling had progressed to in order to inform them that tea was ready.

When they had all sat down for tea, Bryony brought out two presents with the tea and set them in front of Harry and Albus. Albus looked mortified, at the thought of not having a present for the Malfoys, but Harry smiled and summoned two packages from his coat, placing them in front of Draco and Scorpius. Thankfully, Draco seemed to perk up, and was back to his old sarcastic self.

“Oh, wow!” Scorpius said when he uncovered the galaxy orb. “This is so cool.”

Harry nudged Albus under the table.

“Hm? Oh, er, yeah it is, isn’t it?” he said. Harry sighed.

“Albus picked that out for you himself,” he said, smiling at Draco. Draco smirked knowingly.

“And Scorpius picked that out for you,” Draco said, nodding at the package Albus was carefully unwrapping. It was a green silk scarf, clearly more for ornamentation than warmth, but beautiful nonetheless. Albus immediately put it around his neck, where it combined with his red jumper to create a strange but festive effect.

Draco opened his gift, and his eyes sparkled as he beheld the sweater.

“Oh, Harry, this is beautiful,” he said. “I shall wear it to the next event I attend so that everyone can see how marvelous it is.”

“Oh shut up, you tosser, I’m not that inept.” Harry neglected to mention how long it had taken him to select the piece. He opened his mouth to continue, but stopped as his eyes beheld the most beautiful painting he’d ever seen inside his own parcel.

“Draco…it’s…it’s beautiful,” He whispered.

The painting showed a beautiful, rustic cottage in a wood with tall, sparsely growing trees. There was a brook winding its way around the little house, and sunlight streamed down at an angle through the canopy of the trees, turning everything a brilliant gold. A small bridge led from the house to a small path that wound out of sight through the trunks. It was a beautiful image, something Harry he didn’t even know he needed in his life until he saw it.

Draco blew him a kiss across the table, and Harry suddenly broke out in a huge smile. Suddenly his previous anxiety seemed silly.

“You’re brilliant,” Harry said. “Absolutely brilliant.”

After tea, it was time to go home, although Albus and Scorpius protested loudly about this. They both bundled up and ran outside to look at the peacocks while Harry and Draco trailed behind in the entryway.

“Thank you so much, Draco.” Harry said, kissing him on the cheek. “I meant what I said, you’re bloody brilliant.” Draco’s ears turned pink, but his face looked torn.

“Harry, I…” he started to say.

“Yes?” Harry asked him, wrapping his scarf around his neck.

“I…I need to take care of Astoria. I need to focus on her for a little bit, so we might not see each other for a while.”

Harry froze as his earlier doubts came back with staggering force. Was Draco dumping him? He struggled to speak in a normal voice.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, hugging Draco with more than a passing resemblance to a barnacle. He tried to loosen his grip, but Draco hugged him back, giving him a tiny spark of hope.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Draco said, his voice shaking a bit. “But I can’t just stand by and do nothing. I need to support her.”

///

Harry moped for the next few days. A brush-off didn’t suck any less even when it was only temporary, as far as he was concerned. He knew Draco was focused on more important things, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. He was miserable, although he did his best to interact with the kids as usual. Ginny noticed right away, though, and kept the kids occupied as much as possible. Harry appreciated this, but he felt bad for her doing all that work. So it was that he found himself cleaning the house more thoroughly and more frequently. By the time New Year’s came and went, he had cleaned the entire bungalow three times, and his new townhouse twice. The day after New Year’s, however, everything really went to hell.

///

“Thank you so much for coming all the way up here to visit me, Harry.” Astoria said, sitting up in bed. “Draco worries and fusses, but my parents can be just as bad. I haven’t been outside since before Christmas.”

“To be fair,” Harry said, pulling up a chair beside the bed, “it’s terribly cold out there this winter.”

“But at least the air is fresh.”

“The air in here is certainly a little stuffy,” Harry agreed.

“But I didn’t invite you here to complain at you about my bedroom’s atmosphere,” she said. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself when I’m not dying, and Draco is driving me batty. I want him out of my hair, but I swear on Merlin’s wand he doesn’t hear me when I speak anymore.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say, or what she wanted him to do with this information, so he nodded understandingly.

“Look, Harry, I know I’m going to die, and I know it’s inevitable. I want Draco to move on when I go, and I want him to be loved and cared for. But you’ve seen in the last few days how difficult that will be for him to do.”

Harry could understand, and had been agonizing on his behalf for days already.

“Because I know how difficult it will be for him, I want to know he’s taken care of before I die, be that in a day or a few more years.” She stared at Harry intently. “I can see how good you are for him, and I want him to focus on building his relationship with you before I die, so you can help him with it when I do. It’s killing me to see him fussing over me here while you take a back seat. When he told me he wasn’t seeing you at the moment, I knew I needed put my foot down.”

“How so?” Harry asked.

“I’m going to kick him out for good soon,” She said calmly. “If he can’t stop fussing, I’m going to kill him, so he has to go.”

“Er.” Harry said. “I don’t think he’ll appreciate that very much.”

“Probably not,” Astoria said, “but it’s better than bloody murder.”

“Where is Draco, anyway?” Harry asked, looking around suddenly. “He was very insistent about you not being disturbed, so I assumed he would be here to make sure I didn’t stir you up too much.”

“Oh, goodness, no,” Astoria said. “I invited you when I sent him off on a long errand. He’d be furious if he knew you were here.”

“What?!” Harry yelped, jumping to his feet. “Astoria, you shouldn’t have done that. You could jeopardize both of our relationships with him!” He grabbed his coat and turned back to Astoria. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“And why not?” she demanded, throwing back the covers and hauling herself upright. “Do you think Draco will resent either of us for caring about him? And do you think I don’t have the right to invite guests into my own home without Draco’s permission?”

“No, of course not, but I think he’ll resent us putting you in danger--” Astoria swayed as Harry talked, and he rushed forward to catch her as she fell. He let her down gently onto the bed. “This is exactly why he doesn’t want you to have visitors!” Harry was interrupted by a crash from behind him, and turned to see Draco standing in the door looking thunderous, the wreckage of a tea tray at his feet.

“Get out,” he rumbled dangerously. “Now.”

“Draco,” Astoria said weakly, “you don’t understand…”

“I understand that Harry came to this house after I told him you could have no visitors.” Draco said evenly. “And I understand that you are out of bed because of his influence.”

“Darling, that’s-”

“No, Astoria,” Harry interrupted. “He’s right. I shouldn’t have come.” He walked past Draco towards the door. “I’m sorry for bothering you both, I’ll go now.”

“Harry, for God’s sake, wait!” Astoria called, but Harry closed the door and disapparated.

///

 

 

> _Potter,_
> 
> _I am beyond outraged that you would dare to endanger Astoria’s health for any reason. Astoria says there’s more to the story, but I am in no mood to listen to her excuses when she could have died. I cannot express to you how betrayed I feel right now. I trusted you, I let you into my life, and I loved you. I probably still do, I’m just incredibly angry right now. Please give me time and space to deal with this._
> 
> _Draco_

Harry tried to tell himself that the pain this letter caused him was temporary, but it was hard to see this resolving anytime soon. He sent back a letter that said simply “ _I’m sorry_ ” because he didn’t know what he could say. Harry tried to carry on, but he spent most of the next few days wondering how it had all gone so wrong so quickly, and blaming himself for being such a stupid Gryffindor. On Saturday, Harry slept in. When he awoke, he didn’t want to move, but he knew he had to, since the kids would be going back to Hogwarts the next day.

He got in the shower. He wondered what Draco was doing. He got dressed. He pondered how he could have prevented the last week’s drama. He ate breakfast. Had it really only been five weeks since he’d gone to the ballet? He went outside and got his broom. His life had moved so fast in such a short period of time. He could hardly believe it. It didn’t feel possible.

With a start, he remembered he was supposed to be flying, and pulled his broom up before he ran down Ginny, who was mounting her own broom.

“Oy, watch it Potter!” She smirked, kicking off from the ground.

The Potter family’s game of Quidditch was rough and had no rules. With only five players, there was a single hoop and two chasers per team, and more often than not a bit of roughhousing between the three siblings that the parents overlooked. Harry and Ginny played on opposite teams to keep the power balanced. James played with his mother, Albus with his father, and Lily played keeper. First team to 200 points won.

It was a wild experience, and was wonderful for keeping Harry’s mind off Draco.

The score was 190-190, and fatigue was really starting to set in when Harry was suddenly set upon by an owl. He threw the quaffle to Albus, who put it past Lily for the game-winning score, and hovered, and tried to take the letter from the owl that refused to stop fluttering about his head. He gave up and flew to the ground, where the owl proceeded to land on the garden table and stick its leg out.

“Bloody bird,” Harry mumbled. “No treats for you.” The owl, not seeming to mind, hooted cheerfully.

 

 

> _Harry,_
> 
> _Can I see you tomorrow? I’m free any time after eleven._
> 
> _Draco_

Harry stomach clenched. He ran inside to scribble an affirmative on the back of the note, and then sent it back. He spent the rest of the day fretting about what Draco wanted to talk about. Ginny noticed and pulled him aside before dinner.

“One of these days,” she muttered to him, “you’ll have to tell me what’s been going on these last few days. I hate seeing you like this.”

///

The children shipped off to school the next day, Harry apparated to the townhouse where Draco would be meeting him at noon. He was surprised to find Draco waiting in his front garden when he arrived.

“The wards are keyed to let you in, you know,” Harry said, not moving.

“Oh, er, thank you for that,” Draco said, not moving either. “I didn’t know.”

“Oh for God’s sake, come on.” Harry held out his hand to help Draco up from his spot on the ground. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm.”

Harry opened the door and walked in without letting go of Draco’s hand. They went into the reception room and sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Harry set a fire to blazing, and he sat next to Draco after hanging their coats in the front hall. He felt that the next few minutes would determine their futures, and was too scared to start talking. They sat together awkwardly for a few minutes before Draco spoke.

“I was an idiot,” he said at last. “Astoria may or may not have broken my nose and blown out a wall in her bedroom making her point, but she was right, and I’m sorry for treating you, and treating her, the way I did. I can’t cut you out of my life for the same reason I can’t worry over Astoria so much; it’s not fair to either of you. She’s a very strong woman to have survived this long, and I can’t treat her like a child. What she needs most from me is to know I’ll survive when she’s gone, so that’s what I want to do for her.” He looked down and shook his head.

“It’s amazing to me how long she spent telling me that, and how long I refused to hear her.” Draco continued sheepishly. “I’m sorry it took such a beating to see that she’s been as worried about me as I have been about her.” He reached out to Harry’s hand and interlocked their fingers. “I’m not saying that I’ll stop worrying about her. I’ll always be worried about her, and I’ll never be whole again after she’s gone.” He took a deep breath.

“But she’s right about you. You are so, so good for me.” He turned to face Harry. “I love you, Harry Potter. I love your face, and your hair, and your sense of humor. I love the way you make me feel inside. I love the way you make me laugh. I love the way I behave when I’m with you. But it’s not just that. I love the idea of waking up next to you. I love seeing you blush when you catch me staring at you. I love making you smile. I love holding you close to me and feeling you breathe. I love everything about you, and I love everything about us when we’re together. I think we’re good for each other, and I want to be there for you as much as I need you to be there for me.” Tears were rolling down Draco’s face now. Harry reached up with his free hand to wipe them away, his own eyes starting to tear up.

“I love you too, you daft old bugger,” Harry said and kissed Draco. He wished he could have said something more eloquent, something equal to the grace and poise of this beautiful swan he’d fallen for, but he couldn’t. Draco had said it all better than he ever could have. He could never be able to tell Draco how much he meant to him, not without sounding like a bumbling fool. But he could damn well show him.

So he did.

And it was wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/128146.html).


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